Time for action

After being at home for three months, wrapped in winter woollies, eating buns and not getting my hair done, I am starting to resemble a badger.

Picture by Jonathunder. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons licence.
 

The salon I used to go to closed at Christmas; I can no longer see through my fringe, which is perhaps just as well, since my eyebrows are now pure white.

Fortunately, my hairdresser has moved to another salon nearby - so I only have the embarrassment of assuring the receptionist that I'm not supposed to look like an explosion in the chrysanthemum factory; my stylist knows that, yes, I really do want my hair in short, jet black, punky spikes rather than fluffy curls.  Yes, I know how old I am.  That's why I know what I want to look like.

Sadly, my hairdresser can do nothing about the fact most of my clothes don't fit any more.  This is fine at the moment as it's still woollie weather, but I will soon have to buy a mother-of-the-bride outfit, and I'd rather turn up to a marquee than have to wear one.  I don't like the idea of dieting, but I have recently discovered something that I hope might help... anti-gravity marmalade!